


love it if you like it

by queenbeetle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Fluff, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Pining, Soft Boys, anxious idiots in love, proper proposals, sort of, they're together but sad Viktor backstory™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 08:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbeetle/pseuds/queenbeetle
Summary: For awhile it's like that, sloppy but affectionate kisses and the two rocking against each other, finding and syncing up a rhythm for just them. It’s been so long, they both think but don’t say. It's been too long since they could be like this, feel like this. The scratch of Viktor’s early morning shadow over Yuuri’s bare shoulder, the thick thigh nestled between Viktor’s own. All of a sudden, they realize how truly touch starved they were for each other, even more than they had originally thoughtor Viktor and Yuuri get off on each other multiple times on multiple occasions.





	love it if you like it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 1 + 2: Cuddles (naked) Kiss (naked)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so i decided to spontaneously start the 30day nsfw challenge (which is going to take me way longer than 30 days oops) i’m going to be combining a lot of the prompts like this first chapter to make it less daunting on myself 
> 
> anyway heres some soft viktor b/c i have a lot of feelings about soft viktor
> 
> [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=msvq7g5tW8c)

Waking up in darkness, surrounded by soft sheets and having his hair pet back by an even softer touch is something Viktor had dreamed of as a child. Dreamed so hard, conjuring up some beauty next to him so vividly that he’d lose himself to the image. Skate for it, hope for it, yearn for it. That beautiful dream wrapped in Egyptian cotton and gentle gestures seemed like a bar he hoped to reach but knew he never would. Fairytales, he would remind himself, nothing more.

Luckily, Yuuri wasn’t anything like fairytales. 

Yuuri, when he wakes normally, is a beast of a man– nonverbal until he drinks something scalding and caffeinated and even then it takes a brisk morning jog to get his body to catch up to his mind. Disheveled, moody, and unreadable. So when Yuuri wakes up in the middle of the night due to jet lag, Viktor thinks he’s dreaming.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Yuuri whispers, stilling his hand on Viktor’s forehead and squinting his eyes to get a better look. 

Viktor peers up at the other and reaches toward him, bumping clumsy fingers against Yuuri’s cheekbone.

“Where are your glasses?” He rasps and turns his head only to find that it's cradled in Yuuri’s lap. 

“Somewhere,” Yuuri says vaguely. “Go back to sleep.” He smiles so radiantly that Viktor wakes up just a little to repeat the expression back to Yuuri. Sleep still clouds his judgment though, and he raises his hand again to feel Yuuri’s cheek again.

“Are you real?” He whispers, ghosting the pads of his fingers over Yuuri’s lips. 

“Of course I am,” Yuuri says against his fingers– Viktor’s hand tingles with the breath from his words. His brow furrows and he places his hand over Viktor’s, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I dreamed of you.” Viktor shuts his eyes again. His words are slow and breathy, “I dreamed you up when I was younger.”

“You didn’t know me until last year though.” Yuuri smiles and resumes petting Viktor’s head.

“So you can understand how painful it was.” Viktor says like it's nothing, “To not meet the man of your dreams until 27.”

“Viktor.” Yuuri sighs and leans down to press a kiss against his hairline, “I think I know that better than anyone.” 

Viktor remembers the stack of posters he had dragged out from under Yuuri’s mattress one night back in Hasetsu and the corners of his mouth quirk up. Yuuri had been waiting too, in his own way. 

They sit in silence for a while, long enough for Yuuri to think Viktor had fallen asleep until the Russian pulls Yuuri’s hand away from his hair and to his mouth. He presses a kiss onto his palm and cracks his eyes ever so slightly open. Yuuri smiles, something warm and familiar, and curls his fingers against Viktor’s face. He scratches the early signs of shadow there and kisses the back of his hand, right about where Viktor’s mouth would be.

“You dreamed about me?” Yuuri asks softly. 

“Something like you. But it doesn’t compare to the real thing at all.” Viktor hums, tugging Yuuri’s hand away to lean up for a proper kiss. 

The beauty he dreamed of– graceful and ethereal, strong and soft, brilliant and perfect– it didn’t match Yuuri. Yuuri was flawed, something unique and breathtaking and addictive. He’s flecked with self-doubt and roughened on some of his edges by anxiety, but Yuuri made his heart feel like the young child he had been. Young and innocent and in bed staring at the wall and pretending he could see someone laying beside him, hopeful and bursting with passion. 

The dream had only made him feel a delusional moment of blissful heartache, of some _real_ feeling he couldn’t name, before returning to something hollow. To someone making room for something that wasn’t there. Viktor had pushed the furniture of his soul around to make a space for someone else to occupy, and it had remained empty for so long. Long enough for it to gather dust and devour him whole.

He’s glad Yuuri fits into that space just right. It had taken some doing, but Yuuri fits. _Viktor_ fits. 

“Why are you up? Jet lag?” Viktor yawns and stretches, not very subtly changing the topic. 

Yuuri indulges him and nods, “You should sleep. I’ll move out to the other room so I don’t–”

“Don't.” Viktor says, curling his arms around Yuuri’s middle. “Stay like this.” 

“I’ll keep you up.” Yuuri’s protests don’t sound at all like protests, but at least he tries. 

“I don’t mind. You fell asleep right when you arrived, so I didn’t get to spend any time at all with my Yuuri!” Viktor whines, squeezing tighter, “What time is it anyway?”

Yuuri lets go of his hand– which Viktor mourns– and reaches over him to check his phone, “10:08– Oh whoops,” he quickly unlocks his phone and squints the clock app. “4:08.”

Viktor cries out something melodramatic in Russian into Yuuri’s middle and continues to whine, “Yuuri, you always sleep right after your flights– don’t I tell you that this always happens?”

Just hours ago, Yuuri had completed his move to Viktor’s apartment in St. Petersburg. Weeks of planning and cursing the postal service, Yuuri was back in his arms with most of his belongings. Some were still bouncing around in transit, but eventually, they would be settled. For now though, Yuuri’s luggage and boxes remain in the spare room– unopened and unpacked. 

“I don't even remember the ride over here.” Yuuri grumbles, “I couldn’t sleep on the plane, so…”

Viktor crawls his way up Yuuri’s side and pulls him back to the bed, snaking his arms around his shoulders. 

“And why is that, shekastik?” Viktor placates. He presses his nose into the crook of Yuuri's neck and worms his hand down the other’s arms and to his hands.

“Nervous.” Yuuri huffs softly.

“Really? What could you be nervous about?” He shifts an inch to glance at the other, but Yuuri hides his face. When Yuuri takes his time to answer or perhaps refuses to, Viktor fills in the void, “I was excited! Yura and Yakov said I was _too_ excited, but how could I _not_ be? My Yuuri finally coming home to me after two months.” He sighs heavily, “You know I couldn’t even land a double salchow yesterday?”

“Seriously?” That jump starts Yuuri again, “You couldn’t?”

“Not at all, and I have the bruises to prove it.” Viktor laughs, “Yakov made me do basic figures all day.”

“Well, if you couldn’t even land a salchow–”

“ _Double_ Salchow! Oh _Yuuri_ , you sound just like him!” Viktor cries and places both their hands over his chest as he pouts. Yuuri grins and repositions their heads so that he can look at Viktor properly. He catches Viktor's gaze and keeps it close to him.

“What made you so nervous, Yuuri?” Viktor draws their hands up to place a kiss against the warmed gold band over Yuuri’s finger.

Again, Yuuri takes time with his answer, but eventually, he does.

“I was thinking. A lot of thinking.”

“About what?”

“About… Everything. Moving here, being able to speak Russian– or not being able to. I couldn’t understand anything at baggage claim, I was scared I was going to lose everything I owned.”

“Everything you own? Yuuri, that's–”

“Irrational, I know,” Yuuri says in a rushed breath. “Things got irrational about three hours into the flight.”

“How so?” Viktor laces their fingers together.

“I– uh. I thought–” he laughs dryly. “I thought you would forget to pick me up.”

“ _Yuuri!_ I would never–!”

“I know, I know! Then, I thought that maybe I was dreaming. That I had dreamed this whole thing and bought a ticket to Russia and I would show up and realize that I had made up the whole past year and you wouldn't even know who I was and–” Yuuri cuts himself off and shakes his head. With a deep breath he continues, “And so when I got lost in baggage, for a moment I was convinced I really had made this whole thing up.”

Viktor smiles despite everything. He kisses Yuuri’s knuckles, his wrist, his cheeks, his lips. 

“Looks who’s dreaming now.” He whispers. “Is that why you looked the way you did when we found you?” Viktor asks quietly.

Viktor thinks he'll remember that moment for the rest of his life. Yuuri, looking helplessly at all the wrong signs for his luggage, clutching his scarf to his chest so tight that his knuckles paled. When Viktor called his name and Makkachin barked, his head wrenched up so quick that Viktor had worried about the state of his neck. After that– after Yuuri abandoning his carry-on bag and racing to meet Viktor, after Viktor throwing his arms open only to be knocked back by the full force of the other man running into him, Viktor finally felt focused, everything that had suddenly seemed blurry now clear as day.

Apparently, things were still blurry to Yuuri.

Yuuri’s thumb tracks back and forth over Viktor’s and he nods. “I was delirious. I was so tired.”

“But you’re better now, right?” Viktor poses gently.

The pause worries him.

“Yes.” 

“ _Yuuri._ ”

“I was just– just thinking.” Yuuri bends under Viktor’s pressure.

“ _More_ thinking.” Viktor muses, “I hope nothing irrational. Like me ever forgetting you anywhere at any time.”

“Sort of.” Yuuri inadvertently breaks Viktor’s heart.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor slides up and rolls them over so that he’s pinning the other against the bed with his body weight. “Listen to me, I won't ever forget about you. I _could never_ forget about you.” He seals the promise with a slow kiss, releasing on of Yuuri’s hands to cup his jaw. When he pulls back with a sharp pop, he adds, “Especially not at _Pulkovo Airport_ of all places.”

“I know.” Yuuri smiles, “That's why– why uhm…”

“What, zolotse?”

“Viktor.” Yuuri breaths in deep before holding Viktor's gaze again, this time intensely and razor sharp. “Viktor, I want to marry you.”

Viktor frowns.

“I know?” He says, balancing himself on one elbow and slipping his hand out of Yuuri’s to hold up the ring on his finger. “Forgetting something, hmm?” He chuckles, kissing the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, “I’m so _hurt_ , Yuuri!” he whines and leans in for another kiss.

“No– _mmh,_ Viktor!” Yuuri pushes him off and holds him still by his shoulders. “Those are– _you_ said they were engagement rings.”

“Aren’t they?” Viktor still fights for his kiss.

“I bought them as good luck charms at first.”

“Engagement rings, good luck charms. Is there a difference?”

“Yes!” Yuuri cries out, bumping his hips up and rolling Viktor onto his back.

Viktor’s brow wrinkles and for a moment, he really does look hurt. “So you didn’t want to marry me?”

“What? No!” Yuuri yelps. “Of course I did! It's just, at the time I thought that– that I would never see you again. At least not like… you know…”

Viktor sighs deep and leans his head back. “I see.” He breathes. “But it's different now, isn’t it?”

“I just– I wasn’t,” Yuuri swallows hard, “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if you were joking or not. And that maybe you had forgotten that you had said it at all. Or maybe your feelings changed after we had that fight.”

“And that's what made you so nervous?”

Yuuri nods and collapses on Viktor’s chest. “For two whole months. And then some.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor mutters into the mop of messy black hair below him. “I suppose I… assumed. Why would I joke about that?”

“I don’t know.” Yuuri chokes out, “But I didn’t want to ask you over the phone or FaceTime, so I just…”

“Yuuri?”

“Yeah?” Yuuri sounds like his whole heart is in his throat. Which it probably is.

“Katsuki Yuuri,” Viktor hums, linking their hands together again, “Will you marry me?”

If Yuuri’s heart hadn't been in his throat, it certainly was now. His mouth his open like a trout, gasping for water and he’s gone rigid on his chest. 

“Y-Yeah?” He squeaks.

Again, Viktor laughs despite the situation. 

“Now _that_ doesn’t sound very sure.” He snorts and wipes his eyes. 

“I just– I didn’t– I wasn’t expecting that!” Yuuri lurches up on his hands again and just gawks down at Viktor who is clutching his side.

“Yuuri, _you_ just asked _me!_ ” Viktor pulls him back down and crushes their lips together. He kisses him as if he’s trying to convey the question itself in it. Propose _and_ respond with his lips against Yuuri’s, clumsy and debilitating. When they break apart, Yuuri looks even more dazed– rosy cheeks, soft eyes, and lips pressed into the most darling moue Viktor thinks he’s ever seen.

“So will you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri barely lets the question leave Viktor’s mouth before answering, “Yes, _please_.” He presses his cheeks on Viktor’s sternum and smiles like the sun, bright and beautiful and filled with warmth that touches bone deep.

Viktor kisses him again. And again. And again. 

They slide around until the both of them are on their sides, with Viktor’s hands already under Yuuri’s shirt. Chaste, closed kisses turn hungry before Yuuri’s shirt even touches the floor and the two try desperately to stay connected while they tag team Yuuri’s sweats. Eventually though, Viktor pulls away with a soft growl in his throat and yanks Yuuri’s pants and boxers down past his knees. Yuuri kicks them off and wraps both arms around Viktor and claims his mouth again.

For a while it's like that, sloppy but affectionate kisses and the two rocking against each other, finding and syncing up a rhythm for just them. It’s been so long, they both think but don’t say. It's been too long since they could be like this, _feel_ like this. The scratch of Viktor’s early morning shadow over Yuuri’s bare shoulder, the thick thigh nestled between Viktor’s own. All of a sudden, they realize how truly touch starved they were for each other, even more than they had originally thought back when they hugged at the airport. Even more when they had kissed for the first time waiting for the taxi.

“Viktor,” Yuuri pants, bucking forward and latching onto Viktor’s neck. He leaves bite marks, bruises, and marks that whisper its claim now, but will eventually scream it later in the day. Viktor loves it when Yuuri lets himself mark Viktor up, when he forgoes trying to judge what Viktor’s shirts will cover up and instead chooses spots that will definitely be seen even over Viktor’s turtlenecks.

Viktor does the same, holding Yuuri closer and sucking pink marks to his pulse. Marks that Yuuri will be flustered over in the daytime and will peek out from under his scarf. 

_Better than dreaming_ , he thinks distantly.

Yuuri’s gentle whimpering in Viktor’s ear subsidies with a final gasp and long utterly satisfied sigh. Viktor in turn, bites a dark mark into the crook of Yuuri’s neck and groans around it, his hips stuttering and soon rocking to a stop. For a while it's like that. For a while they breathe together and feel their pulses trying to match each other in slowness. For awhile, they adjust back– two halves rearranging around themselves to make a whole again. 

Viktor settles his head on Yuuri’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of it. Yuuri is breathing deep and slowly now, letting his muscles unwind back into dozing. 

“Tired again?” Viktor whispers, drawing shapes onto Yuuri’s sternum.

“A bit.” Yuuri slurs. 

Viktor shuffles up his side and slots their legs together. He hopes he doesn’t dream when he goes back to sleep. He wants to shut his eyes and immediately wake to a bright morning and Yuuri curled up in his bed, their bed. He wants to see Yuuri adjust and carve out a place for himself in Viktor's world, more so than he already has.

Yuuri is better than dreaming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: aw shit NSFW challenge lets GO.  
> also me: writes 2,000+ words of fluff and two paragraphs of porn whOOPS
> 
> i just have a lot of feelings about Viktor and how he was pre and post Yuuri ok
> 
>  
> 
> _come talk to me in the comments ❤️_


End file.
